


When I Ruled the World

by HicSuntDracones



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awesome Gwen (Merlin), Awesome Morgana (Merlin), Communication, Developing Friendships, Established Relationship, F/F, Flashbacks, Getting Together, Gwen is actually an Angel fight me on this, M/M, Mentions of War, Merlin & Morgana Friendship (Merlin), Morgana and Gwen are disgustingly in love, Morgana is a lesbian because I say so, Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Queen Morgana (Merlin), Relationship Study, Season/Series 01, Seriously this a what would have happened if these idiots just talked to each other, Swordfighting, Time Skips, morgana and arthur are siblings, their relationship is weird
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:28:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24371338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HicSuntDracones/pseuds/HicSuntDracones
Summary: "I hear Jerusalem bells are ringingAnd Roman cavalry choirs are singing,Be my Mirror, my Sword, and Shield,My missionaries in a foreign field.And for some reason I can't explain,once you know there was never an honest word,but that was when I ruled the world."Some people would say she was destined to fail, destined to burn, destined to be written as a villain. But with the help of her Mirror, Sword, and Shield, Queen of Albion she will become, and Queen of Albion she will remain, even in the face of a powerful threat to their ways of life.
Relationships: Gwen/Morgana (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	1. Mirror

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amatchforyourmadness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amatchforyourmadness/gifts).



> Yes this is inspired by Viva la Vida, which is arguably *the* Queen Morgana song.   
> I love writing Queen Morgana, but one woman can't make it to the throne alone. So here's how she ruled the world, with the help of her Mirror, Sword, and Shield.  
> Dedicated to SheOfWrittings, @OfWrittings on Tumblr, 'cause she read through this and declared she wanted to fight the Romans and has similarly strong opinions about our favorite medieval idiots. Dudette, I vibe with you.
> 
> (Also disclaimer the Romans are incredibly historically inaccurate, I know this, but I needed a villain so homophobes they became)

_ Fourteen Years Ago _

Her head  _ aches _ . She turns in her bed, shoving her face deep into a pillow. The softness does nothing to hold back the horrible pressure building behind her temples. Her eyes burn with the effort of staying open, but she refuses to close her eyes for longer than it takes to blink. Too many horrible images await her if she does that.

Her friends dying, Camelot overrun, Cornwall in flames. The visions-no matter what Gauis says, these are no mere nightmares-have been getting worse in the past months. They are bloodier, more detailed, more utterly terrifying. There are women with death behind their eyes and young boys turned to unspeakable cruelty, swords finding places in the stomachs of those she loved. There were pyres. So many fires.

The smoke of her mind is suffocating, and she throws her blankets aside. She is Morgana, Duchess of Cornwall, and she will not cower in her bed like a child. What she is going to do is still unclear, but if peaceful sleep will not come, there’s no use staying in bed. She just needs some time to sort out her thoughts, to regain control of her consciousness. A walk around the citadel will help. Probably. It’s better than stewing in here all night, choking on her screams until morning, when Gwen will come in and give her that look of pity. 

Gwen is a gift from the Goddess Vivianne used to speak of, this is something Morgana is sure of. When there’s mornings she cannot get out of bed for the darkness within her, or when the stash of undrunk sleeping potions hidden beneath her bed grows large enough to make her twitchy, Gwen does not judge. She just helps. Gwen brings in flowers and embroidery and chatter, banishing the dark thoughts and awful suggestions that haunt Morgana in the dead of night. Her thoughts of downing too many bottles are dashed when Gwen takes them to distribute to some of her friends in the Lower Town, and thoughts of grabbing a pair of shears scatter when Gwen says they have the household accounts to do. Gwen keeps her busy, keeps her sane, and it is almost enough. But nothing feels like enough when you have visions of your best friend lying dead on the floor before you, and no way to stop them. 

Gwen makes mornings brighter, but she still believes that the visions are just nightmares, symptoms of the melancholy sickness that runs in some families. This is why Morgana does not go to her now. These visions are magic, plain and simple, and telling Gwen would only endanger her. There is no one that can help her in this city, only those who would call her mad or see her burn. 

Which is why Morgana selects her softest and most worn out shoes before slipping out of her chambers, so as to wander the darkened castle without awakening anyone. She long ago memorized the guard’s patrol routes, so she knows where they will be this time of night. She will stay far away. Her visions frequently include knights and guardsmen dying at the claws of beasts or invaders. Without knowing how to stop it, she does not want to see the faces of those who will soon be gone.

Silently, she makes her way down to the courtyard. Leaning against a pillar, she admires the stars. It’s a small comfort to think that even if she goes mad and everyone she loves dies, the stars will still be there. Never mind, that’s not really comforting. Nothing about her situation is comforting. If things continue as they are, she will go mad, and she will watch people die. Her visions come true, that much she knows. The worst so far had been Arthur drowning in that lake. If she hadn’t told Merlin-it didn’t bear thinking about. Morgana has no dependable way to prevent the events in her visions from occurring, no way of controlling what she sees. It’s all just darkness and confusion and-Merlin?

The manservant is skulking down the corridor on the other side of the courtyard, looking behind him every few steps. Morgana ducks behind her pillar and watches him turn towards the dungeons. What could he possibly be doing down there at this time of night? She makes an immediate decision to follow him. Merlin was always involved in some kind of trouble, and he was going to get himself killed one of these days. Someone needed to look after him. Besides, even getting into trouble was better than moping about her future.

Tiptoeing down the stairs to the dungeons, she discovers that Merlin’s chosen a good night to conduct his secretive business. Tonight’s guards are barely out of their teens, probably congratulating themselves on their first real job, and passed out drunk on wine stolen from the kitchens. Morgana steals a sip as she passes by, watching the men twitch in their sleep. 

Peering down the corridor, there’s no sign of Merlin. He’s vanished, but where to? There’s not many places here where someone that clumsy can hide quietly. Grabbing a torch from the wall, Morgana quickly inspects the cells, just in case. They’re all empty except for two, occupied by a thief and a fraudulent doctor, both snoring quietly. No Merlin- _ there _ . 

Just past the final cell, there’s a strange shadow on the floor. Upon closer inspection, that section of the wall reveals itself to be a barely-open door, cleverly painted to look like inconspicuous stone. Morgana peers behind it, smiling to herself. There’s a long staircase and the light of another torch glinting far below. This is turning out to be quite the interesting night. 

As she approaches the bottom of the stairs, Morgana can hear two voices. One is obviously Merlin, but the other is much deeper and unfamiliar. It sounds as if a mountain could speak, “You must be careful, Merlin, for there are many enemies that seek to strike the King down.”

“Tell me something I don’t know!” Merlin snaps back. 

The deep voice continues, “Those who appear to be your friends now have the potential to put all of Albion at risk, young one.”

“That’s what you said about Mordred, but all your fear did was almost get him killed.”

“He will strike down your king one day-” They cannot be talking about Uther. Merlin sounds righteous, unwavering in his convictions. He sounds like Morgana feels, deathly afraid that harm will come to those they love. Uther has never inspired that kind of loyalty in his servants, much less in someone like Merlin. Curious, Morgana abandons her torch on the stairs, creeping forward so she can catch a glimpse of Merlin’s mysterious friend. 

“The Lady also poses a danger-”

“Morgana? You can’t be serious!” Merlin shouts, and for a second Morgana fears she’s been found out, but no. They’re talking about her now. This just got  _ interesting _ . She creeps closer, but she still cannot see either of the men. 

“She has the potential to take the throne, and that is not what the prophecy states,” the deep voice explains, as if by those words he can shape the fate of a kingdom, as if he can shape Morgana’s fate.

“Damn the prophecy, she’s my friend!”  _ That’s right Merlin! _ Morgana will never tease him about his obvious crush on Gwen ever again. 

“And Arthur is your king!” The annoying voice snaps, “Who is more important to you, young warlock?”

“ _ Warlock? _ ” The word pops out before Morgana can think.  _ Merlin? A warlock? _ That made….that makes so much sense. Merlin spins around to face the stairs, eyes glowing molten gold and face hardened. 

“Who’s there?” He demands with a raised hand, a spell glowing in one palm and a torch in the other. 

Morgana rolls her eyes at the dramatics. Perhaps if the two were better strangers, she’d be fooled by his threatening position. But this is Merlin, her friend who is merely more secretive than she realized. “There will be none of that,” she declares as she steps into the warm yellow light. “You just called me your friend, so we’re going to have a little friendly conversation about this.”

Merlin looks so afraid in that moment, shaking behind the firelight. Morgana has lived that feeling every single day of her adult life. So it’s simple to ignore the  _ dragon _ standing behind him-they are definitely discussing that later-and pull Merlin into a tight hug. He drops the torch, wrapping both arms around her with a bone-deep relief. They’re close to tears, both taking deep, gasping breaths as they come up for air. They’ve been drowning their entire lives without realizing it, and now there is finally someone to help them keep afloat. 

Morgana pulls back first, and Merlin seems reluctant to let her go. She stays very close, watching the torchlight reflect in eyes that had been glowing gold only a few minutes before. She’s seen that gold in her own mirror before, and she gets the uncanny feeling that she’s now looking into a mirror of a different kind. 

“You have magic?” she whispers, taking his hands. 

“I was born with it,” Merlin says quietly, daring a small smile. 

“I think I was too.” Morgana summons the light to her eyes. She doesn’t know how to do much else, no spells or incantations, but Merlin stares at her as if she is the most glorious thing in the world. 

They stay in that cave for quite awhile, ignoring the dragon’s declarations of doom as they revel in finding someone who  _ understands _ . They talk, and their smiles shine brighter than any pyre.

  
  
  
  
  
  


_ Two Years Ago _

“Your Majesty, the Dragonlord has arrived. He’s on his way-” Marian, Morgana’s assistant, doesn’t get to finish her sentence as Merlin bursts through the doors to her office without further introduction. “He’s here,” the young woman finishes half-heartedly as Morgana puts down her paperwork just in time to be greeted with a faceful of Merlin. Her over-excitable brother in law cares for neither of their dignities as he launches himself over her desk and sweeps her into a hug. He kisses her on the cheek as she ruffles his hair. It’s grown a bit long in his time away from Camelot, curling around his ears. 

“Really Merlin, you couldn't keep some standard of grooming while you were gone?”

“Apologies, my Lady, but not everyone can look as flawless as you.” He smiles as he waves a hand at her courtly robes; a deep purple dress with golden trimming and a crimson over robe. The crown denoting her status sits comfortably on her brow, just above the blue triple moon sigil painted on her forehead. She honors the traditions of both Camelot and the Goddess, acting as both Queen and High Priestess during her reign. Many had said it couldn't be done, but here they were; Merlin stands before her with a triskellion tattooed on his shoulder and a care-worn sigil hanging around his neck. They are the best of both ways of life, representing Albion at it’s finest.

“I had to dress well for the return of your party, we were meant to be reunited in front of the whole court. Some people have a sense of propriety, you know.” 

“Not me!” Merlin pushes himself backwards so he’s sitting on her desk. “I had to see you all informally first, it’s been months, and we have problems to talk about. I wanted to say hello before we got to difficult things.”

“Can I assume you greeted my wife first?” Morgana raises her eyebrow. 

Merlin has the courtesy to look at his shoes with shame before he answers. “She was at the forge today, practically right there, I couldn't just walk past her-”

“You like her better than me, admit it.”

“Oh, you like her better than me too.”

“I should, she’s my wife!”

“Fair point.” He smiles at Morgana with a strange wistful expression. 

“What are you thinking about?”

“I missed this.”

“Well, once you give your reports you can get right back to annoying me like you always do. And everyone else too, Audrey complains she has too many sticky buns now, because a certain thief left us for months on end. Not to mention that Gwen sometimes starts giggling for no reason at all, and she won’t explain why because apparently it’s an inside joke between you two traitors.” Morgana tries to look cross, but Merlin knows her too well at this point. This is her way of saying she’s missed him, even if it is roundabout and borderline rude. 

“I’m sorry I’ve caused Your Majesty so many difficulties,” he grins, flashing his teeth. Then, looking at her, his expression suddenly morphs quicksilver fast into something more serious and worried. His shoulders hunch in, and Morgana realizes that there’s bags under his eyes that weren’t there a few months ago. 

“What is it?” Morgana demands, silently changing from an excited sister-in-law to a Queen concerned with what her ambassador has to say. “What happened with the Romans? Have they agreed to the borders?”

“I’ll give my full report to the council, but ‘Gana, it’s not good.”

“Define not good.”

“ There’s talk of open war before Midsummer, and they’re doing everything they can to provoke us. Kidnappings, burning farms, forcing conversions, capturing women-”

“Do we have numbers? How many are we up against?” Morgana grabs parchment and a quill, then steps over to the large map of Albion stuck to the wall. There’d been reports from some of the coastal towns of strange raiders, not Saxons but Romans. Nothing like what Merlin is describing, though. It makes her worried that perhaps there are no witnesses left to tell their tales

“I’ve got some reports, but we lost most of our paperwork when they chased us out.”

“That’s ridiculous, they would flout the rules of hospitality and peaceful engagement like that? The party was full of ambassadors-”

“They no longer consider Albion a foreign power.” Merlin spits out, anger creating harsh lines in his face. “We barely got out with our lives. If Alice hadn’t been with us, we would have lost Kara, and Percival too.”

“What?” Morgana wants to strangle those insolent Romans. How  _ dare _ they attack her friends?

“Apparently we’re not human to them. We’re deviant and heathen and barbaric, devil-spawned savages led by incompetent and bloodthirsty women. I wanted to burn their whole camp  _ down _ .” Merlin shakes a little, fingers curling into fists. Sometimes you can forget he is an immensely powerful warlock, just as you can forget that Morgana is perhaps the strongest High Priestess in decades. But when their anger surfaces, the magic that makes them a step removed from completely human makes itself evident. Merlin’s eyes are gold like dragonfire now as he speaks. “When we first arrived, we thought we could deal with them. They were rude, but foreigners can be without meaning to. But then some of their men made advances on Elena, on Kara. They thought we brought them along to be bed warmers, not a knight and a mage. When we started negotiations, they wouldn’t let any of the women in, not even Alice when we were discussing the medical treatments they do on the Continent. They wouldn’t even let half the men in once they found out they were of common birth. Gwaine almost killed a man in a brawl, and Percy found his tent slashed to pieces. 

“That was all within the first week. We still had some hope though, thinking maybe it’s just this lot that’s awful, maybe we can make peace and then never speak to any of them again. The general was curious about our magic, and we thought we could use magical education as a point to bargain with. They asked who had it, so we told them, and from then on they refused to feed me and Kara and Daegal. Tania was smart and kept quiet. They called our magic devil-gifts, saying we must have sold our souls. Daegal was almost stoned to death. They said it was just children being cruel, but they knew what they were doing. 

“And when we finally got down to negotiations, they asked why I would come all the way down there.  _ Me _ . I told them to represent my Queen and Albion. It was right after that conversation that they tried to kill all of us.”

“Why?”

“They thought you and I were married. When I said we weren’t, the general asked who was king. I told him that there was a Queen and Princess Consort, but no king. Then he spat at me and said he’d only speak to a woman’s husband. I chose a very bad time to joke and ask if he’d like to meet mine, and…..we ran after that. They wanted to burn us. It was Uther all over again.” he finishes quietly.

Morgana’s eyes are flashing gold by the time Merlin finishes with his tale. “ _ How dare they _ ,” she says dangerously low. “We do not belong to them. We are not subject to their rules. The magic of Albion will not be contained by their pettiness-”

“Is your Majesty suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

“It’s time to show them what some deviant heretics can do. Their insults will not stand, and neither will their banners fly over Albion. Get to the War Room with any reports you have left. I’ll summon the council.”

“So this is war?”

“Don’t tell me you’re willing to back down now-”

“Not in the slightest,” Merlin gives her a wicked smile as he dashes away. It is not a kind smile, and neither is the one Morgana wears as she draws figures upon a map of her queendom. You see, they can be human. They can fade into the facade of civilization, of sensibility. But neither of them are completely human; they are fierce, dangerous love mixed with wild magic and contained in too small bodies. And when what they love is threatened, that power will haunt their attackers until their final breath.


	2. Sword

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some sibling bonding and idiocy, I'm not in the mood to do long chapter notes today.

_ Twelve Years Ago _

"Again!" A sword flies through the air, and Morgana wearily catches it with one hand. 

"Arthur!" She groans.

"Come on, let's do it again!" He steps into an offensive stance before launching a furious attack that Morgana quickly sidesteps before launching into a defensive spin that points her weapon at the back of Arthur's neck. Arthur ducks as he darts forward, turning on his heel to slash at her side, Morgana catching the edge of his blade with her hilt. A flick of her wrist disengages their blades and leaves Arthur's left side open. Morgana leaps in, bending her body away from the strike of his sword. She is constantly moving, always two steps of Arthur's defensive moves. 

He switches tactics, copying Morgana's dance-like tactics to lift his sword above his head again and again only to bring it down with brutal force. His lower body remains defenceless, but Morgana is too busy dodging the powerful blows to strike back. She plants her feet mid-turn, bringing her sword up as Arthur brings his down. The edges of the blades clash with a great ringing sound, the impact sure to leave dents in the metal. Both put their full weight behind their blades, brows furrowed with exertion. Arthur presses down harder, and just as the blade begins a dangerous descent to Morgana's shoulder, she pulls away, tucking into herself and raising her leg to kick Arthur squarely in the back. That and his forward momentum sent him sprawling onto his front, and Morgana once more sticks the point of her sword to the back of his neck.

"Yield!" She demands.

"I yield, I yield." Arthur pants. Morgana withdraws her sword, sticking out her hand as Arthur draws himself to his hands and knees. He then spins on his knees, raising the point of his blade a hair away from Morgana's exposed palm. 

"Damn you," she spits out. 

"I remain undefeated tonight."

"And your ego remains undeflated." Arthur takes her hand for real this time, and they limp to the wall supporting each other. This had been their sixth bout of the evening in the small windowless training room. They were marking time by candlelight as they methodically beat the everloving shit out of each other. But despite the many, many bruises inflicted on each other, they managed to keep a sense of humor as they prepared for a more serious future. Their battles now were fought with the goal of readying Morgana for the much-anticipated day when she would challenge Uther for the throne of Camelot.

Groundwork for this radical plot was being laid every day. Out of their group of four-Morgana, Merlin, Gwen, and Arthur-none of them were getting more than one or two full nights of sleep each month, and hadn't for over a year now. They were too busy planning and plotting. Merlin and Morgana honed their magic, Gwen and Arthur sought the confidence of Camelot's citizens; Arthur drilled them all in combat(with varying degrees of success) and Gwen went on reconnaissance missions. Morgana put all of this training to good use, building the base of her power daily through careful maneuvering through court.

It was all planned; Morgana would reveal her heritage before the court and use her right as a woman of the blood to challenge the king. She would win. And then Camelot would see what real change could mean. First to go would be the bans Uther had enacted since his days as a war duke; the prohibitions against women earning knighthoods and common folk earning places at court, those bans against the liberties of those who practiced magic and practicing the religion of the Goddess and her Consort. There were many wrongs to be righted.

"Again!" Arthur shouts after only a few minutes rest, shoving Morgana's sword back into her hands. She'd gotten distracted. It paid to remember that this whole taking over a kingdom thing was very much a one step at a time process. First she had to consistently beat Arthur. 

Morgana did not intend to take her half-brother's place as leader of Camelot's armies, but she had to prove that she could defend herself and her people above all. She had to show that she could fight not just with her words or ink on paper, but with steel and magic as well. She had to prove that she could be better than someone who had spent his whole life training for war while she had thought she was descending into madness. She could not merely be 'as good as', she had to be  _ better _ .

But by the Goddess, Morgana would never surrender in pursuit of justice, and neither would Arthur. They made a terrifying pair, fury and skill and deadly competitiveness fueling their passion. Together, they would take the throne in Morgana's name, that she had no doubt-

The door to the training room bursts open. Gwen has her hair tied up and a sword at her waist, with stronger steel in her eyes. "We've got to go now!"

"You mean-"

"Uther knows of our plans and we have to make our move now." It looked like Morgana would be taking the throne sooner than they planned. 

"Break it down," Arthur asks, blowing out the candle and pushing them all out the door. 

"Guardsmen and knights started brawling over the question of loyalty, the rumors from a few months ago about Morgana's birthright never fully died down, and most of the guards are loyal to you but also too easily urged into a fight. Then the barracks caught fire and word got to Uther. He's prepared to roll some heads, so I'd prefer it if his was cut off first, if you don't mind."

"Don't mind at all my dear Gwen, don't mind at all." Morgana smiles as she runs.

"What plan shall we go with?" Arthur asks, deferring to Gwen and Morgana's many pre-planned strategies. 

"Seeing as he's challenged her to a duel, I'm thinking the plan where I back her up, you keep the knights from killing our friends, and Merlin locks some people in the dungeons." 

"I can do that."

"What are we waiting for then? To arms!" Morgana shouts.

"To arms!" Gwen and Arthur shout back.

"I'll race you to the courtyard!" Arthur taunts.

"Arthur!"

"You're on!"

" _ Morgana _ !"

And then they're off, swords at the ready and glinting in the torchlight. Everything seems a little more possible when there's another sword at your side.

_ One Year Ago _

Arthur slams his sword onto the campaign table, shocking several scribes. "I'm going on a mission to kill every last Roman bastard who has invaded our borders. Who wants to join me?" The spacious tent that has unofficially become a War Room stares at him silently. 

"If you could have done that on your own you would have done it by now-" Morgana begins, unsure why her brother is interrupting this meeting of campaign leaders, especially when he was meant to be on his way to Londinium for a huge offensive mission.

"I am going to Gwynned and will kill every Roman in my way. Gwaine will be accompanying me, as well as anyone else who chooses to come. I understand this is unorthodox but I wanted to give you the courtesy of knowing I'm leaving."

"Slow down!" Morgana demands, motioning for a few of the advisors to relocate their report-collecting elsewhere. "Is this of immediate importance to any of our campaigns, refugee relocation programs, or supply trains?"

"No, but-"

"It can wait then."

"They have Merlin!"

Gwen stands from her position at Morgana's left to address the gathered advisors and scribes. "Would everyone who still has reports to give please accompany me? The rest of you are dismissed, and until further notice, please address any additional concerns to me instead of the Queen." She ducks to whisper in Morgana's ear, "I'll be back as soon as possible,  _ do not let Arthur leave _ . I love you," she adds, the casual declaration ever so slightly distracting Morgana every time.

"And I you," Morgana whispers back. Speaking to the whole room, "General du Bois will be giving his report privately, all relevant information to be released as necessary to those in charge of surveillance and supply as soon as possible. I thank you all for your patience and understanding." A few of the advisors grumble as they follow Gwen out of the room, but most take this interruption in stride, scribbling on parchment as they walk. A few spare a pitying look for Arthur, but he does not meet their eyes.

Once they are alone, Morgana softens almost imperceptibly. "What happened?"

Arthur reels off facts like this is truly a formal report, barely masking his worry. Morgana doesn't bother to mask hers. "Merlin was on the scouting mission to Snowdon, alone except for Gwaine because it was meant to be a stealth endeavor to evaluate their weaknesses and how best to break their defenses magically. Communications were being received through Yalena, the scryer on Kara's team. As of yesterday, she stopped receiving any messages from Merlin, and everything she sent came right back after hitting a powerful magical block. It knocked her unconscious, but Alice says she'll be fine and back on active duty in a few days. 

"An hour ago, Gwaine came galloping into camp like a madman. The two of them had been ambushed and Merlin was captured. Based on his story and Yalena's scrying, Merlin's trapped in a cave of iron in Gwynedd. There's more iron than should be possible in such a place, and immensely powerful spells are plastered all over the thing. It was all planned. The Romans intend for that to be his tomb. 

"So Gwaine and I are going on an extraction mission with whoever else wants to come. I'll go alone if I have to."

"Arthur," Morgana sighs, sinking her face into her hands. She takes a deep breath. "I can't let you go."

Her brother sags at that, emotion leaking through his armor of professionalism. He takes his sword from the table, holding it like it is a much greater weight than it truly is. "Morgana," his voice is thick and pleading. "That is my husband in there, I am going whether or not you give me permission."

" _ Don't you dare pull that excuse _ ." Morgana hisses. "He's my family too, you know that. But we can't afford to lose both of you to a suicide mission. We are fighting a war on three fronts here; Londinium, the eastern coasts, and Snowdon. Not to mention that any volunteers you could scrounge up for this mission would be better served as guards for refugee caravans. We need our fighters to remain on task, and we need you at the head of Camelot's armies."

"But-"

"Merlin's magic will protect him until we can safely send a team to get him out. He will not die there."

"You don't know that!" Arthur screams, eyes wet.

"I have to hope for it!  _ We  _ have to hope for it! And I swear to the Goddess that if you go anyway and get yourself killed, neither I nor Albion will ever forgive you." A pause, rife with tension and sorrow. "Brother-of-mine, you helped me build this queendom, and I need your help now to defend it and everything within it we hold dear. We are not going to lose this war. We  _ cannot _ lose this war. I am not asking you, I am ordering you, as your Queen, to lead your forces, join with Nemeth's garrisons, and launch the agreed upon offensive plan against the Roman installation at Londinium. Gwen has the latest batch of weapons at the ready, arm yourselves before you go." The silence is a living thing, large and ugly and desperate to be broken.

"Understood, my Lady Queen." Arthur bows stiffly, something indecipherable in his eyes. 

"Wait," Morgana calls before he can leave the tent. "I am not Uther," Morgana reminds him. "Don't defy me for defiance's sake. I swear to you we'll get Merlin back, but wars cannot stop in the meantime." 

Arthur simply wraps his sister in a hug. "I'm sorry," he mumbles into her hair. "I'm being selfish, aren't I?"

"You're being human. Gods know that if Gwen was in danger I'd move mountains to get to her, and you'd have to talk me down."

"True, true." They silently hold each other for a few more moments before separating. "Thank you," Arthur says earnestly as he sheaths his sword and Morgana straightens her crown.

"For what?" Morgana is honestly surprised.

"The usual; putting up with my boorishness, reminding me of my duties, being the finest Queen Albion has ever seen." 

"I couldn't have done it without you."

"Yes, you could have. I've found that very little can stop you from getting something once you've set your mind on it. Magic lessons, a throne, victory against the Romans-"

"We're not there yet. We're almost there. Then we'll get Merlin back, and you can congratulate me on my brilliance."

"As if. Your head is large enough already."

"What happened to being the finest Queen Albion's ever seen?"

"I have to keep you on your toes."

"Oh, just go already. Shoo!"

"Of course, Milady Queen." 

"I will never get tired of hearing that from you."

"Really, I wouldn't have guessed from how you practically purr like a cat every time-"

"Safe travels and be sensible!" Morgana shouts as she shoves him out of the tent. "I mean it! No getting killed or I will be very cross with you."

"The same goes to you! Keep your wit sharp and your sword sharper!" Arthur shouts as he walks away. He then runs smack into Gwen, who begins informing him exactly why he cannot go on a suicide mission to get Merlin, mostly because she'll kill him first. Morgana just laughs, distracting herself from war for a moment with the sight of Camelot's finest swordsman being reduced to a stuttering mess courtesy of Gwen. Swords were important, but so was using them wisely, and knowing what was effective against them. And of course, they had to work together. Morgana thought they were doing a half-decent job of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's interested in the cave Merlin's trapped in, look up the legend of Dinas Emrys. I think you'll like it.

**Author's Note:**

> As always I'm on Tumblr @hairasuntouchedaspartoftheamazon come visit me and shout about anything. My next fic should be something related to The Umbrella Academy, as I finished the show a few days ago and am *obsessed*
> 
> Stay safe, stay healthy, stay sane!


End file.
